By mid-point of the trek we deserved a break to process a massive amount of information. (Sometimes on this trip I pictured myself somewhat like a goose being raised for eventual pate de fois gras--being fed, albeit voluntarily, huge factoids of information to digest whole.)
Reaching the Mediterranean Sea at the tiny port of Ekincik, we caught our first sight of a sleek 80-foot sailboat. Docked in the harbor, the beautiful Turkish gulet was to be our latest home. For the next three days, I pictured myself a 1930s movie star sunbathing luxuriously on the sleek teak deck as our ship cruised along the Turquoise Coast.
I must admit, however, that sailing through the high winds and torrential downpours of two afternoon storms left me secretly yearning for a journey closer to land. On the other hand, this watery diversion was a little piece of heaven. I had my own stateroom; I loved floating buoyantly for hours in the azure sea when we were anchored in quiet coves each morning. I enjoyed watching our Turkish cook chop and slice and dice vegetables, fillet freshly caught fish and serve superb gourmet meals out on the deck. One special morning “carry out” even arrived by speedboat; the batch of piping hot just-baked bread disappeared faster than you can say patlikan kizartmasi (fried eggplant, or aubergine--a favorite of mine on this trip.) That was the life!
But this idyll had to end. Disembarking at Fethiye, we had to move on.
* Along the Seacoast: A memorable scenic drive along the mountains and cliffs jutting up steeply from the Mediterranean coast brought us to Kemer, and we headed inland into the limestone Taurus Mountains. Beautiful mountain vistas captivated us and lulled us almost to sleep as we wound up the mountain. Suddenly, almost at our ranch destination, the bus lurched to one side of the narrow gravel road and shuddered to a stop. We were tilting rather dangerously toward one side, and visions of the bus toppling over into the ditch crossed the minds of a few passengers.
Ken, our ever-ready guide, didn’t waste a moment. “Everybody out, NOW,” he ordered.
We did. Shouldering our backpacks, we made our way the rest of the way on foot up the dirt road. Around the bend, we viewed a beautiful mountain ranch, Montenegro. We were its first visitors. (We later learned there was a better road to the ranch. We had taken the wrong one.)
Later, Antalya, Aspendos, and Konya (the home of the whirling· dervishes) passed by in a pleasant blur of museums, harbors, and more ruins.
Our final village destination between Ankara and Istanbul was· Safronbolu, perhaps my favorite of all the villages we visited. According to the guidebooks, for many centuries Safronbolu had been a guarded secret. A tiny town of well-preserved 13th century Ottoman houses hidden in the hills of North Central Anatolia, it was a destination that only the most adventuresome travelers had discovered. I loved it. Our stay in a renovated Ottoman pension at this World Heritage site was a highlight of my trip. Strolling through narrow cobblestone lanes and getting acquainted with the traditional crafts and trades of Turkey, I felt transported back a hundred years in time.
[On to Turkey Part Five]
